On the Kentucky Frontier: A Story of the Fighting Pioneers of the West

In a twinkling I had put on powder horn and pouch; looked well to my rifle, and was ready to follow Simon Kenton in his desperate venture.

The shutter was open. Not daring to look back, I sprang out, believing as I did so that the report of a rifle would be my death knell; but no sound came.

The savages, thinking we were securely caged, had gathered around the prisoners in readiness to begin the terrible work, and I was free to rush on to my own doom.

While believing there was little chance I should succeed in saving my own life, I was not careless.

Moving onward stealthily; stopping at each yard of distance to learn if one of the foe might be near at hand, I pressed forward in a circle, counting on coming within view of the prisoners at a point midway between the cabin and that fork in the path which led to the riverside.

Each instant I expected to come upon Simon Kenton, and as the moments went by I began to understand that if he heard me approaching from the rear he might leap upon me, believing one of the savages was creeping upon him, and such realization caused me to hope it would be possible to avoid him.

It was a strange situation, this being equally afraid of friend and foe, and could have been in a certain degree avoided if I had but accompanied the young scout.

Nothing interfered with my progress, however, until I was arrived at the point for which I had been aiming, and saw full before me the preparations for the torture.

Two fires had been built ten or twelve yards distant from the prisoners, evidently for purposes of illumination, and at the feet of the unfortunate ones was heaped a quantity of dry wood, which would be kindled into a flame when the first portion of the terrible work had been concluded.

Now the savages were making ready for the dance around their victims, and I saw fourteen of the painted brutes, hideous in feathers, beads and gaudy coloring.

To describe that which followed immediately after I had a view of the scene, would be impossible. The fiends were alternately advancing toward the prisoners, and retreating, moving with a certain measured step, and brandishing weapons in the faces of the two who were helpless.

The lad seemed literally frozen with terror; but the man faced his cruel enemies as if defying them to wring a cry of pain from his compressed lips.

Perhaps five minutes passed while I thus remained motionless in the thicket within half a rifle-shot distance, and then one of the murderous brutes approached the boy knife in hand.

I knew the poor lad was to be maimed in some manner. The same blinding rush of rage which had come upon me while I was in the cabin, overpowered all sense of danger.

Giving no heed to my own peril; thinking only to save the frightened lad from immediate pain, I fired point blank at the brute who would have drawn the first blood, and when he fell, as though struck by lightning, a cry of triumph rang from my lips.

What followed I am unable to set down of my own knowledge, for I was become like one in a fever of rage and desperation.

I set about re-charging my rifle without giving heed to the rush which should have followed the shot, and dimly, as if it was something in which I had no concern, I heard the report of another rifle; another cry which seemed but the echo of my own.

Before my feverish brain had taken in all this as a fact, I was ready to shoot again, and never had I aimed with more deliberation. I felt certain this second bullet of mine would find its target, and when it sped on its way I needed not to gaze at the be-feathered brute within range to know that he was dead or disabled.

Again came what was like the echo of my own gun, and I saw four of the villains on the ground, while the others had made for the nearest shelter, each seeking some tree trunk that would shelter his worthless body.

Now I realized that I had come up nearly opposite where Simon Kenton was stationed, and he it was who had fired immediately after my rifle spoke.

Thus attacked on either hand, the savages must have believed they were beset by a large force, and their only desire was to shelter themselves from the deadly fire.

While loading my rifle I looked for an instant at the boy. His eyes were opened wide; his lips parted as if to cry out, and on his face was an expression of mingled hope and doubt painful in its intensity.

Again I saw a target. Twenty paces away was one of the brutes leaping from tree to tree as if striving to gain the river, and him I stopped on the instant.

Ten seconds later came the report of a rifle from the opposite side of the path, and I knew Simon Kenton had not wasted a bullet.

No less than six of the feathered brutes were out of the fight, and it was only with difficulty that I repressed a cry of triumph, for I knew full well the villains would not linger long against an unseen foe whose aim was so deadly.

Twice more did I fire, and once Kenton's rifle rang out. Then I believed the brutes had taken refuge in flight, for two passed within my line of vision while I was reloading my weapon.

"Kenton!" I shouted, holding the rifle at my shoulder meanwhile, lest by raising my voice I might have brought the foe upon me, and before one could have counted twenty the young scout was by my side.

"Is it indeed you, lad?" he asked as if overcome with astonishment.

"And why not? I have been able to take some part in the rescue?"

"Some part, lad? You have made it possible when I believed nothing might be done. But for your attack, yonder poor fellows would even now be in agony, because I could not have fired without bringing the whole gang upon me. A shot from both sides was what caused them to believe we had a large force."

"Let us cut those prisoners loose," I cried, waiting to hear no more, and eager to relieve them, from their misery.

"Wait," he whispered, clutching me by the arm. "The snakes may take it into their heads to turn back, and it will be well if I quicken their pace a bit. Stand here, and do not come out from cover till I get back."

He was off like a flash, and with no more noise, while I remained on the alert for an attack; but burning to set free the poor lad, who was seeking here and there with his eyes to learn if those who had saved him from pain were yet near at hand.

Then the man spoke words of hope to the boy, as I could understand, by the expression on both their faces, and I waited with finger on the trigger of the rifle lest the savages should make one desperate effort to accomplish their cruel work.

Surely if any of the Indians were near at hand now, some attempt would be made to kill the prisoners, and after waiting perhaps five minutes, I stepped boldly out within the rays of light.

Near at hand were four rifles, where they had been left against a sapling while their owners took part in the dance of death, and I knew we might add the prisoners, well armed, to our force.

The lad gave vent to a low cry of most intense joy as he saw me; but the man said quietly, as if it was quite natural I should be there:

"You came in good time. How many are with you?"

"Only one other, sir, and he is in pursuit of the savages," I replied, wielding my hunting knife to sever the bonds which held both prisoners helpless.

I had no more than given the poor fellows freedom, and while they stood chafing their wrists to restore the circulation of blood, Simon Kenton came up swiftly.

"It is well we get back to the cabin; the snakes have halted just under the river bank, and it may be they will turn back to find out how many we can muster. Come on!"

Stopping only sufficiently long to secure the rifles which were near at hand, we four ran to the cabin, the door of which my mother held open; and once we were inside, the dear soul clasped me to her bosom as if I had come back from the dead, as indeed was very nearly the case.

CHAPTER IV.

PAUL SAMPSON

When we were inside the cabin once more, with the door and windows barred and the man and lad whom we had rescued eating ravenously from the store of food my mother set before them, there was in my mind the thought that I had good reason to be proud of the part I had so lately played.

Simon Kenton and I had killed, or driven off, a band of fourteen savages, and surely my portion of the work had not been slight. It seemed to me then, as now, that I did my full share in the business. It is true, except for the fact of our having taken the brutes by surprise, and come upon them in such fashion they had no means of knowing but that we outnumbered them three or four to one, the matter might have come to a different ending; but it was much to our credit that we had been able to surprise those wretches who seldom made an attack unless it can be begun in like manner.

I repeat I was feeling proud of our work, more particularly when I looked at our guests, realizing that but for Simon Kenton and myself they would at that very moment be suffering all the tortures the painted wolves could inflict, and I glanced at the young scout, thinking to read in his face thoughts akin to mine.

In this I was mistaken. Despite what was very nearly a fact – that the Indians had been put to flight – he was standing by the loophole of the door keeping careful watch, and, so far as could be told by the expression on his face, it might have been us white men who were worsted in the encounter.

I failed to see in his bearing anything to betoken that he had but lately faced death in its most horrible form in order to make an effort at saving the lives of strangers, and from that moment I looked up to the young man much as if he had been of a superior race from any I had previously seen.

It is not to be supposed that I stood idly by dwelling upon such thoughts as are here set down in words, while, for aught we knew, the brutes might be gathering in greater force than before.